


The Assignment

by darling_pet



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, F/M, Final Battle, Flirting, Forbidden Love, I guess it would be considered forbidden, Internal Conflict, Mission Fic, Reader is a Collector, Reader-Insert, Romance, Vibe Powers, abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: In order to get back into the good graces of the Master Collectors, colleague Gypsy gives you her mission so you can prove you are as reliable as Collectors come. Little do you know, your assignment is pretty damn charming. And that could be a problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My best estimate is that this story will be 3 chapters total.

 

Today was supposed to be the day. The day you would be getting your next assignment along with all the other Collectors. Gypsy and the others have received theirs already.  _But what about me?_ You corner your friend and sometimes teammate, Gypsy, in the hall of the Collectors' Headquarters.

“Hey, do you know why I wasn't assigned anyone?” you ask, noticing by the look on her face that she most definitely does. “They aren't telling me anything. It's like the Masters are ghosting me.”

“Well... you're not  _wrong,_ ” she says.

“ _What_?”

 “Yeah, (Y/N), listen - The Masters were not impressed with your last task so-”

“How could I have possibly have avoided that energy beam? I mean, sure it slowed me down and messed me up a bit, but I'm back to normal now!”

“Are you forgetting that your fugitive escaped? Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't called you in for punishment or stripped you of your title.” That's the thing about Gypsy. She tells it how it is, no sugar coating (even if you wish she would  _just once_ ). There's a short and awkward pause.

“Anyway... Who'd you get this time? Terrorist? Mad scientist? Rogue Collector?”

“Nah, nothing exciting,” she says, showing you her holographic file of her fugitive. “Just that cooky author from here. Should be pretty straight forward. I don’t expect too much of a fight from him.”

That's when the lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Say, G? Remember that time I helped you-”

“Oh no, what do you want?” Gypsy asks warily.

“Just hear me out. You let me take over your mission so I can convince the Masters my last task was a horrible fluke. Or else who  _knows_  what they'll do with me?” You give her your best pleading eyes. Gypsy lets out a slow huff.

“Fine,” she agrees. “Whatever. This one looked too easy, anyway. Here.” She transfers her fugitive's file to you through her wrist's communicator.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Yeah, well, it would suck if you weren't one of us anymore.” She smiles, but it's only a small one.  _Always needing to look tough, aren't you_?

“Aww, G. You almost showed some emotion, there.”

“Oh, shut up.” She gives you a playful punch in the shoulder. “You better get going. Good luck.”

“Please! I got this.” You double check the destination coordinates from the file.  _Earth-1, huh?_  Summoning the power from inside you, you open a breach to the other Earth and jump through. You land in what looks to be a city park. The day has newly risen and a thin layer of morning fog hovers off the ground. You consult your holographic file once more. The face of a smiling, unthreatening, hipster-like man, illuminates. The fugitive author. Underneath his photo – a name:  _H.R. Wells._

“Oh yeah. I  _so_  got this.”

  

* * *

 

Through the method of tracking this H.R.'s cross-dimensional uploads of individual chapters of what he calls  _H.R. Wells' Adventures in the Multiverse_ , you were easily able to locate his whereabouts.

S.T.A.R. Labs.

 _So they had the Labs here on this Earth too, eh?_  You supposed it would only make sense that he would be drawn to something familiar from home on Earth-19. Which, of course, made it all that much easier for you. When approaching the ovular building from outside, you open the portion of your mind that allows you to see the outlaw beyond the walls. You jump into another self-made breach. It spits you out in a room in the Labs, where in front of you stands Wells and two others.

“H.R. Wells,” you address him. He looks around while pointing at himself with a worried expression. “You need to come with me. I'm taking you into custody. Whether or not I do so by force, is up to you.”

“Custody?” says the confused long-haired male. “What's she talkin' 'bout, Wells?”

“Excuse me, but,  _who_  are you?” asks the female with an oddly glowing necklace.

“I'm (Y/N), Collector of Earth-Nineteen. I'm here for  _this_  man.” You dramatically point to H.R. “He has broken our Earth's fundamental law against inter-dimensional travel.”

“And you knew he was here?” wonders Long-Hair. “How?”

“Mr. Cool Guy Author here has been posting his  _friend fiction,_  chapter by chapter across the Multiverse. Not that hard to track. Even a baby could do it.”

“You can't just take him,” says the woman.

“Watch me.” Just as the younger man uses the intercom to call someone for help, you create a breach behind H.R., then hit him with one of your vibe-blasts, knocking him backwards into the portal. You sprint and jump in after him, but not before becoming the victim of a blow from an energy beam.

On the other side of the breach, you trip and knock over H.R., both of you falling to the ground with an  _oomf._  When you lift your head up you find yourself momentarily staring into your assignment's eyes. At first, you expect them to emit signals of shock and fear, but that's not the case. They kind of look... amused?

“Why, (Y/N), have you fallen for me? I'm sorry, but this might get a little complicated,” he says, trying to be funny. You let out an irked noise and push up off his chest, shaking off the accident.

“Stand up,” you order him, pulling the handcuffs out from the side of your zipped pocket. “And put out your hands.”

“Ohoho, I don't think we're there yet,” H.R. says with a tilt of his head.

“What?”

“I mean, maybe we could go out a couple times first, dinner  _for sure._ ”

“What are you babbling about?”

“Cuffs,” he says pointing to the tools in your hands. “The cuffs, (Y/N). We have to build to that stage.”  _Oh Lord._

“Yeah, yeah, sweet-talker, just put them on.” You put them on him and try not to blush at his suggestiveness and his silly eyebrow wiggle, looking at your GPS.  _Wait, this isn't home. This isn't Earth-19._

This is Earth-3.

You do some mental backtracking. You were hit with that energy beam before hurtling into the breach. It threw you off. Any energized pulse weapon apparently dampens and sets your powers on the fritz. Just like what happened on your last assignment... 

_Greeaat._


	2. Chapter 2

What the hell were you going to do? It's not like you could call for back-up, seeing as you were trying to prove  _yes, you_ _did_ _deserve to be a Collector._  And even if you attempted jumping dimensions, you would never end up where you were actually trying to go. The safe bet would be to stay put with the fugitive until your powers reconfigured.

“This doesn't look like home,” H.R. finally notices. You can't let him know about your screw-up and how your powers are faulty right now.

“Right, well, think of it as a short pit stop.” 

“I've never heard of a Collector doing that before.”

“This one does. Anyway, there's been a delay in the schedule,” you announce, making it up on the go. “But don't get me wrong, you're not off the hook, Wells. You still have to serve your sentence.”

“You mean I still have to die,” he puts bluntly.

“Uh... Yeah...”

H.R. claps his hands together. “Well then, seeing as this is, as you call it, a  _pit stop_ , we  _must_  have time for a coffee break.” You narrow your eyes, trying to decipher whether this was a ploy to escape. “(Y/N), seeing as I'm being sentenced to death, the least you could do is let me have my last meal. And by meal, I mean drink. Sss. Plural.”

“I don't need to do anything for you. You're a criminal.” You like to consider yourself a tough person, but there was something about H.R.'s reaction to your words that plucks an emotional string inside you. He looks so... vulnerable. Sad. Defeated. Usually, inter-dimensional jumping felons put up a fight. You go to place a hand on his shoulder for comfort but withdraw it before contact is made.

“I guess I could use some caffeine,” you say, feigning sternness. “Let's go.”

“Oh. Good,  _great_!” H.R. swings his cuffed hands in the direction of a coffee shop, indicating that's the one you should allow him to try. “You're lucky you've captured the greatest coffee connoisseur in the multi-verse! I can show you the woooorrrrld!”

 

* * *

 

“I'm gonna miss Earth-One. Obviously Team Flash. Those guys are the best. But yunno what? The coffee over there? It's out of this world – no pun intended! Jitters makes the best Brazilian Roast. My cups of joe here don't even compare. Have you heard of the Earth-One phenomenon known as  _soap operas_?”

This has been your last few hours with H.R. An extremely talkative, mostly one-sided conversation about the various wonders of Earth-One and the extensive backstories on his friends and colleagues (the criminal assistants). Jesus, you feel like you know them now and granted, they all sound like a great bunch.

 _But_ _none of that_ _excuse_ _s_ _the fact that this man broke the_ _number one law of our society,_  you try to tell yourself. While H.R. continues going off on his many tangents in between his millionth coffee, you see how animated he is and can sense the power of his zest for life... A life that you are obligated to deliver to the Master Collectors.

H.R. touches the side of your arm and you flinch.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He's asking  _you_  if you're  _okay_? “You look like you're the one being taken to meet your fate.”You do your best to pull yourself together.

“Yup. Fine. Just thinking.” You try to inconspicuously summon your vibe-powers at your side without him noticing. It comes out as a faint wisp in your hand.  _Damn._  “So, um, we have to stay here on Earth-Three for tonight.”

“Why's that now?”

“Confidential.” H.R. puts his shackled hands up in defence. “But if everything permits, we'll be back home tomorrow.”

He bows his head solemnly, and it's almost inaudible, but you hear him whisper to himself, “ _Tomorrow_.”

 

* * *

 

Why do these things always happen to you?

Your head rests against a tree trunk in the city park and you take a deep breath. You couldn't sleep. Not that you would anyway, for fear of H.R. making a break for it, and but even if you  _could_ sleep _,_  it would be impossible. And no, not because you were both up against a tree in the middle of the night. It was because while you've collected and handed over countless men before, there was something different about this time.

And you couldn't for the life of you figure out why.

There's a sudden weight on your shoulder and you quickly realize H.R.'s head had slumped onto you. He makes a little snuffling noise in his sleep. The acting-tough side of you tells you to scold him for doing this and shake him off, but some other unfamiliar side of you lets it happen with a tired and slightly bewitched smile.


	3. Chapter 3

H.R. sleeps well into late morning. Until lunchtime, actually. You nudge him and he snorts a little as he wakes up.

“What time is it?” he asks, squinting at the sun.

“It's time to go,” you tell him with an accidental sigh. There's a jingling sound coming from down the path. It's a hot-dog cart. H.R. spots it too and starts to make loud foodgasm noises. You heave yet another sigh and say, “H.R., do you want some lunch first?”

“Do I?!”

You lead the way and order a hot-dog and fries combination for each of you. H.R. tries to squirt the bottle of mustard over his food, but he's clearly having trouble with the handcuffs still on.

“If I take those off so you can eat, you won't run away?”

“No. I've accepted my fate.” You can tell he's not lying – a trick of the Collector trade. He makes a relieved sound the moment his binds are removed and proceeds to smother his hot-dog and fries in mustard.

“Leave some for me, why don't you?!” you gasp and steal the bottle from him and use the same generous amount of the condiment.

“Ah, finally, a fellow mustard lover. You know Team Flash is just brimming with weird ketchup people. What's up with _that_?”

“So weird. Like, who puts ketchup on their fries?” The pair of you walk side-by-side, talking and eating, needing to stretch your legs after sitting on the cold, hard ground for so long. H.R. continues to bring up every topic on Earth, but this time, it's you who feels a little more chatty.

“I don't think the literary critics on our Earth would know a real Sci-Fi/Romance Bestseller if it bit them on the ass,” he says.

“I've never even read your work and I've found the same thing,” you find yourself saying. “And it's not just your genre. It's every genre. There's some real crap on these Bestseller lists and the critics praise them all!”

“Did we just agree on something again?” he asks with a funny smile.

“I think we did.”

“I- mmm-” H.R. stops mid-sentence.

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“No, you're going to tell me.”

_“_ I'm glad it wasn't Gypsy after me.” You blink as a reply and stop in your tracks.

“Why? Because I'm not a total legend like she is? Well let me tell you, mister, I'm just as _badass_ -”

“No! It's not that,” he interrupts your tirade. “Okay, maybe a little. She's kind of intimidating, let's be honest.”

_I mean, he does have a point. She kind of_ is.

Are you agreeing with the fugitive again?

“Maybe I should rephrase that,” he tries. “I'm glad it was _you_.” You have absolutely no idea what to say in response. What _can_ you say? You turn to face him with a tiny apologetic smile.

“Oh. Um. I- right.” _Wow. Very articulate._ _Maybe the fugitive- no. Maybe H.R. wasn't so bad..._

H.R. returns your smile for a second, then looks like he wants to say something. He leans in quickly, but pulls away, then back again. His eyes flick to your lips, to your eyes, and to your lips once more.

“You... mustard.” H.R. hesitates with his hand, but in the end, he wipes a thumb over the corner of your mouth.

“Oh,” you utter quietly and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks.”

A silence hangs in the crisp air. There's a short moment of awkward shuffling and glances. Dead ahead of you on the path, a swirling breach opens, and out of it jumps a familiar pissed off face.

Gypsy.

You hadn't realized how close you were to H.R. until you automatically step away from him at seeing your colleague.

“G! What are doing here?”

“ _Me_?” she practically yells. “What are you doing _here_? Why is he not in a holding cell?” You hold your hands out in front of you as if to try to calm her temper.

“Hey, relax, okay? My powers gave out again,” you try to explain. “We were only going to stay here until they came back.” A wonky-looking portal is the product of your efforts to show her. Gypsy viciously rolls her eyes.

“You are going to be in so much shit if you don't get your ass back to headquarters with _him_.”

“I will!” This comes out high-pitched and choked, much to your dismay.

“You're damn right because you're both coming with me right now!” Gypsy, in all her feminine ferocity, grabs you and H.R. by your collars and shoves you into her perfectly working breach, making you feel a wave of inferiority. You stumble back into your home, Earth-19, where you are met by five towering figures. The Master Collectors.

“(Y/N),” says a scarily cold voice belonging to one of your superiors. “You're late-”

“I know and I'm so sorry-”

“-But you have brought the criminal _this time_ , therefore you are fortunate.” You share a quick glance with H.R., who had fallen to his knees. His eyes are full of fear, instead of the wonderful brightness you had witnessed earlier. “Take him away.”

Two armed guards lift H.R. up roughly and take him until he's out of your sight. You know they're taking him to the cell block, where he'll be held until his execution. The Master Collectors say nothing more to you as they leave. This is a small relief, until, that is, they confer with each other as they walk.

“Be sure to make the executioner aware that he'll be needed tomorrow morning.”

Your heart sinks.

It sinks lower when you walk into your peaceful apartment.

Then even lower as you crawl into your comfortable bed.

And when you didn't think it could sink anymore while you try to force yourself to sleep, that's when it breaks.

Is this the toll a must Collector must take? Then screw it! Screw everything about this stupid job. How it makes you feel like shit. How it condemns the sweetest, most kind hearted man you've come across in your life to death. You kick off your suddenly confining blankets and prepare yourself. You knew what you needed to do.

H.R. Wells is too good for this world – so you were going to see him safely to another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Enjoy :)

Locating the cell block takes longer than expected, seeing as you've never actually set foot in this part of Headquarters. You never had a need to. Once a fugitive was caught, your job was done. Time to move on and find the next.

But you were _not_ done with this one.

The familiar looking guard standing intimidatingly in front of the door you need access to eyes you up, trying to spot potential danger. But after realizing it's _you_ , he loosens up.

“(Y/N), working late?”

“Yeah, my latest mission came with a lot of paperwork,” you lie. “I'm here to give my no-longer-fugitive a piece of my mind about the stuff he tried to pull... You know, before-” You make a slicing motion with your finger across your neck. The guard makes a face like he's impressed with your apparent ruthlessness.

“Hardcore,” he nods. “But I'm not supposed to let people in. It's kinda the whole point of my being here.”

“Listen-” you start, then totally blank on this guy's name. “ _Man._ I'm on your side, here. I hate these good for nothing criminals, too. I only need to put this guy in his place before it's too late and I have all this rage bottled up forever. Can you help a chick out? Just this once?” The guard seems to be buying your pissed-off role because who would ever suspect _you_ of double crossing the people you work for. The one who loves rules and making things right.

He thinks it over for a second.

“Cell B-14. Make it quick,” he says. “And really give it to him.”

“Oh, I will.”

He glances down the corridor, both ways, before swiping his key card and opening the heavy duty door. It shuts loudly behind you and leaves you in a long dark room with prison cells along each side. You squint trying to follow the indicated letters and numbers on the walls. Finally: B-14.

“H.R.,” you whisper into the lightless cell, gripping the cold bars keeping you from getting in. “H.R., it's me.” You hear a shuffling noise on the ground inside.

“(Y/N)?” he answers. “Am I dreaming?”

“No. No, H.R. you're not.” He scurries over to you and wraps his hands around the bars like you are. “I'm here to get you out.”

H.R. shakes his head. “I don't understand.”

“I'll explain later.” You concentrate on making a breach inside his cell. “Jump in, hurry.” Although he still looks incredibly confused, H.R. does so anyway and appears behind you out of the portal. You turn around and he takes a step toward you, diminishing the gap between you. _So close._..

He searches your eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you-”

“STOP!”

_Shit._

The guard has caught you red handed. Protocol calls for him to alert the entire vicinity of the escape of a criminal and, in addition to this, your betrayal. You sprint toward him halfway across the hallway of cells and lunge for him, trying to deter him from pressing the alarm button. He dodges you at the last second. _Pretty fast for a b_ _i_ _g guy._ Your wide eyes witness his hand smash the big red button like it's progressing in slow motion. A brutally loud alarm goes off overhead and now you're panicking. The guard makes a beeline for you but you take a play out of Gypsy's book.

With your dominant hand in front, you concentrate on your inner power. You immediately jump through the portal and come out on the other side of the raging guard. You throw your arm around his neck from behind and resist his attempts to free himself. Slowly but surely, he falls to the ground, you with him, unconscious.

“Is he...?”

“No. He'll be fine. Now let's get out of here!” You take his hand and run back out the door from which you came, only making it to the end of the corridor before crashing into a full-on sprinting body around the corner.

“G?!” you yell over the alarm. _What is she doing here?_

“(Y/N), the fugitive? Are you kidding me?!”

“It's _H.R.,_ ” he tries to clarify in the background. Gypsy ignores his comment and continues.

“I had a feeling it was you when I heard the alarm, I just didn't want to believe it.”

“G, it's all so hard to explain, but I _cannot_ leave him here. I just can't! It's killing me.” You plead with her only using your eyes even though you think it may be pointless. When it comes to Collectors' Law, Gypsy never wavers. The clunking of boots grows louder each second, echoing from beyond the maze-like hallways.

“Go.”

“What?”

“Go! I'll lead them the other way.” You do as she says and communicate a wordless thank you. She nods in return.

“I'll miss you,” you say, knowing full well you won't see her again after this. Whether it be from hiding for the rest of your life or death by the Master Collectors.

“I'll miss you, too,” Gypsy says in her _I'm upset but I'm tough_ voice. “Nowmoveyourass!”

At that, you drag H.R. down and around the corner. Creating yet another finely working portal, you make sure he goes through first and you leap in after him. Rain greets you on the other end, though not heavily. You find yourselves in the orange glow of the lampposts outside S.T.A.R. Labs of Earth-One. At last, sanctuary.

You start to make your way to the Labs, but a noise catches your attention behind you. The beginning of swirling blue matter appears in the air.

“H.R. run!” you yell at him and point to the Labs. “Get inside, _now_!” H.R. hesitates, but at seeing what you had seen, he does what you ask, though not fully wanting to. He keeps looking back as he runs, clearly distressed at leaving you behind. A pulsed shot of energy hits you and you fall on your stomach onto the wet pavement. A manhandling pair of hands restrain you with cuffs.

“This was your last mistake,” your captor says coldly. “Get her up. And find the author.” More hands find you and now you know exactly who has come for you:

All five of the Master Collectors.

This is it. They have come to take you in. You had to face it now – you were a Rogue Collector. And once one has been caught, there is no hope.

No hope, that is, until you hear H.R.'s voice shout, “There they are!” A series of different voices follow:

“ _Wait_!”

“Get your hands off her!”

“WE CHALLENGE YOU TO A TRIAL BY COMBAT!”

“For the possession of H.R. Wells and the Collector (Y/N)!”

“If you think you can handle us!”

All advancing in a line of defence are five people, all clad in their respective superhero outfits. You feel like you know them all simply by looking at them thanks to H.R.'s rambling about them. There's the long-haired guy from before, donning special gloves and a high-tech pair of glasses. This must be Francisco. A woman stands next to him with hair so blonde it looks like the colour of snow and her eyes glow blue. Caitlin, perhaps? Then the girl in red and boy in yellow wearing speedster suits: It has to be Jesse and Wallace. So this last guy in red must be... what did H.R. call him again? _Oh right, B.A._

“We assume you children would like the customary twenty-four hours to prepare?” One Master Collector addresses the team.

“Hell naw!” replies Francisco.

“We're settling this right now,” adds B.A.

“So be it,” says the Master Collector that bound you. What follows next is a series of vibe-blasts, coloured lightning streaks, and bursts of deadly ice. The battle is fierce and evenly matched. It seems almost impossible that anyone could come out of this alive. The fact that your life is now on the line along with H.R.'s and these perfect strangers are fighting with everything they have to keep you alive – It's all so overwhelming. All you can do is hug your knees on the ground and try to keep from looking at the monumental fight taking place before your suddenly teary eyes.

H.R. rushes up to you amidst the scene in front of you. His hands find your arms, gently making sure you're okay and not broken.

And even then, you yourself aren't sure.

“I want out, I can't do this anymore,” you finally confess into his chest. “I quit.”

“Good.” H.R. holds the back of your head and strokes your hair. “Because now you can stay here with me.”

“You're a criminal.”

H.R. face drops with a sadness at your words. “I know, I know. I broke one of the most sacred laws-”

“No. Not because of that. Forget that. You stole my heart, H.R. Believe it or not, _y_ _ou_ captured _me._ ” Caught up in the moment, in everything you've been through, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. Deeply, with everything you've got, pouring every ounce of _I'm sorry for everything_ and _Why couldn't I see this before?_ and _Please don't leave me_ from your body. The rain continues to pour down. H.R. holds you tight throughout it all. At one point, he whispers, “Look.”

Each member of Team Flash has a Master Collector in a various degree of being restrained. None of the colourfully clad heroes seems to be taking advantage of the “killing your opponent” aspect of the trial by combat.

“Why aren't they...?”

“That's not what we're about here at Team Flash,” H.R. says quietly but proudly.

Team Flash let the Master Collectors free. Your former employers call to you with hostility. “You're finished!”

“Don't even think of showing your face back home!”

_Earth-Nineteen is no longer my home._

The defeated five leave Earth-1 in an angered huff. You've never felt so relieved in your whole life. Your heroes come to check on you and H.R.

“I don't know how to thank you all,” you say. The girl in red, Jesse, helps you up from the ground.

“You don't need to,” B.A. assures.

“It's what we do,” Wallace says happily while crossing his arms.

“What am I going to do now?” you wonder aloud.

“H.R. has vouched for you and that's good enough for us,” says B.A “He's a pretty good judge of character.” _Does this mean?_ You look to H.R. (who nods enthusiastically) and throw your arms around him. He says so only you can hear, “Welcome to Team Flash, (Y/N).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun one to write, oh my goodness <3


End file.
